


Guardian Angel

by what_is_a_social_life



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Future Fic, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 16:44:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6337096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_is_a_social_life/pseuds/what_is_a_social_life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the winter of 1940, George Crawley stands at the train station, knapsack in hand, surrounded by his parents, sisters, and the other young men who are going to risk their lives for their country. And while he wants to honor his father, his real father, not the one who raised him, he doesn’t know if he can. His mother, his darling mother, knows exactly what he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guardian Angel

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: If Downton Abbey is over, and my name isn’t Julian Fellowes, then how can it be mine?

Audrey Talbot weaved through the crowded station with all the grace of the monkey her father and brother always said she was. Her parents and her brother and sister followed behind at a slower pace, especially her brother, who seemed very interested in his shoes.

“Mama, what’s wrong with George?” Ella asked, glancing back at him. Mary, who had been lost in useless conversation with Henry in an attempt to distract themselves from the realities of what that day would bring, glanced back at her son, knapsack slung carelessly over his shoulder and fatigues crisped to perfection by Barrow, who had had a tearful farewell with George before they left the abbey. George was, indeed, not only trailing behind them, but barely glancing up. She frowned; this was very unlike him.

“Make sure Audrey doesn’t get too far ahead,” Mary replied, sharing a glance with Henry before walking back to her son, wrapping her arm through his. “Something the matter, Private Crawley?”

“Please don’t call me that,” he told her, keeping his gaze firmly down at his feet.

“George?” she asked, taking his chin and making him look at her. The day that George had surpassed her in height, while expected, had still been quite sad. It was proof her baby boy was no longer her baby boy.

“Am I being stupid?” he asked. “The heir, volunteering to fight? Do we even know who’s next in line-”

“What’s really going on, darling? Is this about us, because we’ll be plenty busy with the children your grandmother has convinced us to take in from London. We will be fine, your cousins will be fine, your friends will be fine, and Louise will be fine.”

“What does Louise have to do with anything?” George demanded, his head snapping up to look at her. She laughed at his terrified face and rested her head on his shoulder.

“You can tell me anything.”

“I know,” he sighed, leaning his head on top of hers. “I want to make him proud, Mama.”

_Oh._

“You make him proud every single day. You made him proud the second I told him about you. In his eyes, you are perfect, George.”

“Because the one time he saw me I was a blank slate?” he asked almost bitterly.

“Because you are his son. _That_ is why he is proud of you, why he will _always_ be proud of you. He and I are united when it comes to that.”

George didn’t look all that convinced.

“He knew me for what must have been ten minutes.”

“And I had never seen him have a happier ten minutes in the nine years I’d known him. He- he felt he’d swallowed fireworks the first time he held you.”

“Really?”

“I have something for you. I guess now would be the best time for it,” she said slowly, reaching into her purse and taking out the stuffed dog. “Your father carried this with him, when he fought. For good luck. It was mine as a child.”

George took it from her carefully, turning it around in his hands. This was something his father had touched and carried close to him in a time of fear and worry. He had survived.

And so could George.

And with that, he kissed his mother on the cheek and the two strode forward to where Henry, Audrey, and Ella waited. He hugged each of them in turn before striding purposefully up to the train, the stuffed dog still in his hand. He stood there for a moment, glancing back at his family, before placing the dog in his pocket and stepping up onto to the train with moments to spare. Audrey and Ella raced after the train until it disappeared from sight. Henry offered her a handkerchief and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“He’s going to come home. He’s going to make Matthew proud, Mary.”

“He’s going to make us all proud,” she answered. “Audrey, Ella! Let’s go, darlings!” The two made their way back to their parents and the four walked towards the car together. Mary spared one last glance behind her, to where, she thought, she could still George’s train in the distance.

_He will come home,_ Mary thought, _but not because of the dog._

She looked up to the sky, a small smile on her face.

_But because he has a guardian angel._


End file.
